Syngenesophobia
by Midorima Kazunari
Summary: Family is a strange thing - for both Ghouls and Humans. This is the third story in the TG Phobia Series and follows my stories 'Agoraphobia' and 'Coulrophobia.'
1. Chapter 1

This story is dedicated to Scorp, who helped me figure out how to put the bite back in my story.

* * *

The bouncer lets me in without checking my membership pass. It's not like the ones the men waiting in the line have paid fifteen thousand yen for tonight; it is a lifetime access card, and although I don't use it often, I find myself coming here enough to make the pass pay for itself.

I go to the booth in the corner, away from the stage where two young women in nurse's uniforms are flogging a salaryman bound with leather straps and a ball gag. The jaded crowd is only paying cursory attention. A waiter in a mask – not one I made, mind you – and a thong brings me a cup of coffee and a carafe of the same. As he turns away, he exposes fresh whip marks on this ass and upper thighs.

I sit there reading Sen Takatsuki's newest short-story collection – a present from Kaneki-kun – on my phone as I wait. Forty minutes later, I'm just getting to the title story, when a woman in a black leather corset slides into the booth next to me. Both of her breasts are exposed and the nipples are covered only in black sequenced pasties. She'd be beautiful if her eyes weren't so empty and cold; her porcelain skin is flawless, despite her years in this trade. Her emotionless façade hides her age like the mask I made her long ago.

"Uta, dear, you're looking…" she flails for words, as I stare at her eyes. She's unused to men looking at anything other than her boobs; I have no interest in those anymore, so she's thrown off for a moment. "I'm sorry, dear, let me try that again. How are you, Uta?"

"I'm well mother," I say, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"Two things, actually. One is I have a new recruit for the Clowns. I'd like you to meet with her and see if you'll consider backing her with me for admission."

"Send her to the shop and I'll let you know what I think. Ask her to call first though; I'm not planning on opening this week as I have too much backlog to finish up."

"Excellent, thank you. And I want to get a tattoo. I hear your human does good work."

"He has a name, mother. He's a person, not a pet hamster I've taught to do tricks."

"Yes, I know, but I can't pronounce his name correctly and I remember what you did to the last person who insisted on calling him 'Crive.'"

"I only crushed his windpipe, he healed after a few minutes of suffering," I dismiss.

"Will you set it up for me?"

"What body part will you have him tattoo?"

"I want to put a –"

"I'm less interested in what, then where. I don't want Clive to have to look at your private parts."

"If he's a professional, then it shouldn't matter where I want it."

"Then no, I won't arrange it. I have too much respect for Clive to make him part of your sadistic lifestyle." I reach out and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. "No one gets to dominate him; I believe I've made that very clear." As I let her go, I'm aware we are the center of attention, as if we were the next act of the stage show. She shivers, which is strange, because I learned that tone of voice from watching her work.

"Do you dominate him? Or do you let him dominate you?"

"Our sex life is none of your business; get your jollies fantasizing about someone else."

"I want a thorned rose on my ankle, alright?" She rubs her jaw. My fingerprints are clear on her pale skin, she'll be lucky if it doesn't bruise.

"Was that so hard to say?"

"I've a reputation to uphold, Uta, dear. You do remember what Mommy does for a living?" She sweeps her arm out to the leering crowd, waiting for the next moment of violence between us.

"I have a hard time forgetting, mother."

"So when can I see your young man? I'm past due to meet him anyway."

I pull up our shared calendar on my phone. Clive is thankfully booked solid for the next three weeks. He only works Tuesday through Thursday at the parlor, and the end of the month is the best I can do. "Do you have any plans on the twenty-fourth?"

"You can't get anything sooner than that? You _are_ sleeping with him, right? Can't you convince him to make room for me while you're… snuggling?"

I want to reach over and shake her, but touching her once was distasteful enough when I'm not sure where she's been or who she's been with lately, so I simply calm my features and glare at her.

* * *

I always feel like I should take a shower after leaving the club, because I don't want any of those vibes to somehow contaminate Clive, but he's already home when I get there. Instead of burning away the feelings with the scalding water, I lean into his narrow back and clamp my jaw down on his shoulder with no pressure so I won't break the skin through his orchid-colored dress shirt. He looks so tasty in that color, and after the passionless encounter with my mother, the only thing I want to do is pin him to the floor and fuck. He doesn't react to my touch, bite, or the cold clinging to me from the long walk back to the shop which should shock him, but he's reading a letter written in English.

"Hey, darling –" He stands up and the back of his head smacks into my forehead. "Ow." I rub the point of painful, unexpected contact.

"I'm going out for a while," he says, crushing the paper into a ball and throwing it into the trash can. "I'll be back soon. I have my phone." He grabs his vintage motorcycle jacket and out the door before I know what's happened. I fish out the paper, but I can't read anything, except the one word that looks like Clive's name in English. I only know that word because I had him tattoo it on my body and I see it every time I undo my pants to take a piss.

It's easy enough to follow him, so I shove the paper in my pocket on my way out the door. I dial Renji's number as I linger back about fifteen meters behind Clive, just far enough back to give him breathing room, but close enough to see if he's going to turn left or right at each intersection. He's not paying careful attention to his surroundings.

"What do you want, Uta?"

"Good to hear from you, too, Renji," I quip, dashing between crowds of drunk girls stumbling along the sidewalk.

"You're telling me you don't want anything? It sounds like your walking fast. Where are you?"

"I'm walking fast on the street outside the shop. Well, I was wondering if you could read English. That's not as difficult as some of my requests."

It's fucking cold out tonight, and if the weather reports are correct, we'll be getting another six centimeters of snow accumulation tonight. The cold weather has kept all but the most dedicated drunkards off the streets. Even with my attention split, I have no trouble following Clive as he turns, seemingly at random, every few intersections.

"Me? Where would I have learned that?" Renji's laugh is sad, a little hollow.

"Your sister didn't teach you?" A guy on the sidewalk bumps into me, we both stumble backward. He starts to apologize and then sees my eyes; I can't believe I forgot my sunglasses! I lower my head and push passed him; tracking Clive more by his scent now.

"No, it was hard enough to get me to pay attention to learning to read and write in one language. Touka took English. She might be able to help, depending on what it is."

"Clive got a letter tonight, but…"

"One of these days, he's going to be the death of you."

"It'll be an exciting end, but right now I need your help. You're right as usual, but it's not like I don't call you to hang out, too."

"I know, I know. What do you want?"

"Can you take this letter to Touka for translation?"

"Hell no, it's almost 2:30 in the morning. She's in bed by now. I value my knees."

"Ok, then can you meet me and follow Clive, oh wait, he just turned on the street with Helter Skelter… and now he's going in. I'm going to call Itori and ask her to watch him, can you be on call in case he leaves before I'm done with Touka?"

"Sure, Uta, sure. The fact that Clive puts up with you means he's a saint or a martyr – I can never tell between those two Christian terms – and he deserves at least a couple of dirty faced angles to watch over him."


	2. Chapter 2

Touka-chan's shriek is rich and throaty, like a professional horror actress, and as she screams, Kaneki-kun jumps out of bed, Kagune unfurled and pointed directly at my head where I squat at the bottom of their bed

Someone on the other side of the wall, bangs on it, shouting: "Shut the fuck up!"

"Uta?" Kaneki-kun stammers, and his one-eyed Kakugan flutters and goes back to white, his Kagune retreats as well.

"What the hell are you doing in our bedroom?" Touka-chan demands, pulling the sheet up around her chest, despite the fact that she is wearing a t-shirt, and even if she weren't, I wouldn't care. I've seen enough breasts tonight to last...

"I need your help," I say, holding the crumpled paper out to them. Kaneki-kun recovers first and turns on the light by the side of the bed. He's wearing black sweatpants, but is otherwise unclad. He's filled out nicely from the first time we met, and his torso is impressively cut, but I'm too worried about other things to give him more than a second look.

He takes it, smoothing out the wrinkles. He shivers at how cold the paper has become from my nighttime marathon from Helter Skelter in the Fourteenth Ward to their apartment in the First Ward. At least I didn't run into any Doves while I paraded through Tokyo.

"English? That was never my strong subject. Touka?"

"It's three in the morning, Uta, I have a big day tomorrow, so unless this is earth-shatteringly important–"

"It made Clive cry, but he didn't tell me what it said. He went for a walk two hours ago, saying he wanted to be alone, and he hasn't come back." It all rushes out of my mouth; I'm not even sure if it all makes sense, but somehow they get it.

"Are you sure he's safe?" Kaneki-kun asks, always practical. "It's freezing out there tonight!"

"Of course, I tailed him. He went to Helter Skelter, and Itori's watching him for me now."

"Well, just wait then," Touka-chan grumbles and turns over.

Kaneki continues to look at the writing on the paper. "What I can understand isn't that much, but I recognize the words 'father,' 'cancer,' and 'hospital.' If it was typed I could probably do more."

"Oh for pity's sake," Touka snaps, turning over and snatching the paper from his hands.

"It says:

 _Clive, I know you probably don't care, but your father is very sick, perhaps dying. The doctors say it is cancer and we don't know how much longer he has. If you want to try and make peace with him before the end, he's in room 212 of the Hospital near our house, but come soon if you're planning to, he doesn't have much longer. Love, Mom_.

"There, now get out of my bedroom, Uta. I love you like a brother, but I will seriously hurt you if you don't leave and let me sleep. I have important things I have to do three hours from now."

Kaneki-kun offers me his hand and I take it, alighting from the bed and allowing him to herd me into the living room.

My phone bleats, and I check the screen. [Your boy just left. Ren-chan's following him, but it looks like he's still wandering.]

"Thank you, Kaneki-kun, I didn't think Touka-chan would respond so badly," I apologize.

"Eh, it doesn't matter, go take care of Clive. It sounds like he's going to need you," he says, handing me a pair of dark glasses.

* * *

Renji sends me texts every few minutes and I'm able to catch up to him in the park near the apartment I share with Clive.

"He's been sitting on the swing for about ten minutes now. No one's bothered him," he reports. We're standing about a quarter of a mile away, near an all-night convenience store. I go in and buy a black Boss Coffee and Clive's favorite: a Suntory Bikkle.

"Thank you, Renji, I'll take over now." He takes off his coat and offers it to me.

"I don't need it," I protest.

"Just take it," he insists. "A crop top is hardly appropriate for this kind of weather, and sandals in snow…," he makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and puts his coat over my shoulders. It's too long and too wide, but once I stuff my arms into it, I realize how cold I am. "Let me know if you need anything else," he says, and then leaves as I begin my walk across the park.

Clive doesn't look up as I sit in the swing next to him, but when I hand him the glass bottle, he takes it, twists off the cap, and drops it into the sand at our feet. Now, I'm officially terrified; he doesn't do thoughtless things like that.

The sickly sweet smell of cake batter wafts from the bottle. I'm not sure how they managed to bottle cake. I've seen cake, I've even had the vile stuff in my mouth, but a liquefied version seems just that much more revolting. He guzzles it like he hasn't drank in days.

"Will you come with me?" he asks, burping the soda that he's consumed too quickly.

"To Okinawa?" I ask. I lean over, placing my hand over the gaping hole in the knees of his faded blue jeans. I rub his skin, trying to decrease the sharp contrast of the black Maori tribal tattoos that cover both his legs and the cold, bright pink of his un-inked flesh.

"Yes. Who did you get to read the letter?" He looks steadily at my hand. His breath is visualized in front of him in the cold air.

"Touka-chan."

"At…," he checks his watch. "…three-thirty in the morning? That's brave."

"It was only three when I woke them up."

"So, will you?"

"If you want me to, of course I will, but if you don't want me there, I'll understand."

"I won't be able to do it without you. You're my strength, you know that, right?"

"You're my weakness, so it is a fair exchange," I say, holding out my hand. He transfers the drink to his right and folds his fingers into mine like a deck of cards shuffling together. He finally looks at me, and his eyes are red and puffy, and as soon as our eyes meet his chin quivers and two streams of tears flood out of his eyes and down his cheeks. I leap up and wrap my arms around him. He's freezing cold, so I enfold him, bringing him inside the coat, so that for this brief second at least, I'm the only part of the world that he has to worry about.

* * *

As two more or less adults, we are pathetic. Between us we don't own a single piece of luggage, only messenger bags and cases for our equipment. We have no idea if we'll be a single hour in Okinawa or a week, or even a month. The flight leaves in less than two hours, so I stuff a couple pairs of pants, a few tank tops, and an all-purpose sweater into my bag. I don't care if it matches, or even looks good. We've got so little time, I almost forget my sketch book.

I'll be traveling under a false identity – that of a blind man, cane included, thank you very much – so I can get away with a lot of things normal people can't. There are supplies I will need, especially since I will be outside of my home Ward where I am well known, and feared. If we're there more than a day, I'll need to get permission to hunt, or find a Ward representative willing to assist me in my dining options. Renji meets us to retrieve his coat and drops off a bag of :Re's sugar cubes. They aren't as potent as the ones from Anteiku, but they'll cut the hunger enough for me to pretend to be human. He also gives me a vile of anti-RC serum, as a "worst-case scenario," but I use a dose as soon as he leaves, for the plane ride, and hope I'll have enough left over for the return trip.


	3. Chapter 3

Renji calls ahead for me to some people he knows; there are two Ghouls waiting just outside the terminal for us when we get off the airplane. They are big guys, brawny.

"Uta-sama," the first says, bowing. "Welcome to Okinawa."

"Thank you."

"This is a gift from our Boss." His buddy holds out two bundles wrapped in brown paper and tied off with twine. I nod and Clive takes them both, securing them in his messenger bag.

"Tell her I'm thankful for her hospitality." It's milder in Okinawa than in Tokyo, but that might just be the fact that I'm starting out here in a coat that fits, proper winterized boots, and it doesn't snow here.

"If you'll be staying longer than a few days and would like to hunt with us, please call this number."

I take the card from the first guy, read the phone number embossed on the plain white card, and then respectfully place it in my card case. "I'm not sure how long we'll be staying, but we'll let you know when we're leaving."

"Thank you, for that courtesy, and for not hunting in our Ward without us."

"Of course; it is only right, after all. I don't wish to upset the balance you've established here. And the Doves? What is their presence like in the city?"

"They are circumspect - and if you are as well - you won't have any trouble."

"Thank you for the assistance and the information."

"Of course, Uta-sama," he bows again. "On behalf of our Boss, we wish you the best of luck on your business inside our Ward. Can we pass along assurances that your purpose here is… benign?"

"You can. Tell her..." It is so annoying not using names, or even relationships. We share blood from a long way back, and if this was a vacation, I would take the time to visit her in person… "I have no intentions of causing 'chaos.' She'll understand what that means, oh, and tell her that the next time I'm in town, we'll have to get a meal together."

"Is there anywhere we can drop you off? A hotel? A restaurant?"

"If you don't mind, we need to go to the hospital."

* * *

"Oh no, look who woke from death and returned to life," the man in the bed groans as Clive enters the room in front of me. We haven't had time to stop and change, or shower, so I'm sure we look – and smell – a sight. I'm still playing the blind man, my arm on his shoulder, and the cane in my hand. "I should have known the world was coming to an end. It hasn't been this cold in Okinawa in three decades. What the hell are you doing here, boy?"

Clive freezes at the sound of the voice, but I push him forward so I can get a better read on the situation. The man in the bed is healthy looking and sitting up on his own, doing the puzzle from the newspaper. I use the pause in action to take off my coat.

"Mom, what's going on? I thought you said he was dying," Clive asks through clenched teeth. The tone conflicts with the way his hand presses against my arm. She doesn't say anything, but continues to stare out of the room's only window, seeing nothing but the parking lot and the gray sky beyond it.

"Oh, so you rushed right here to see if you could kiss up on my deathbed and get your inheritance," the old man huffs, turning his head away. "You shouldn't have lied to him, Hime. What did you tell him?"

"That you have cancer."

"Skin cancer, Alice-Hime. I'm surrounded by liars and idiots!"

"I don't need your money," Clive says, his voice raw and so low I wonder if anyone besides myself can hear it. His hand flexes inside his gloves, creaking the leather.

"Clive's the best tattoo artist in Tokyo, probably Japan. He makes more money in a day, than you make in a week, old man," I snap, already tired of this farce.

"Then he should pay back his mother for all the money she gave him when he crawled back ten years ago and begged for help."

I take my wallet out of my back pocket and push it into Clive's hand. I'm not sure how much he owes, but there is enough money in there to pay back any ransom they could have lent him. He pulls out two hundred thousand yen and puts it on the foot of the bed, before coming quickly back to my side. I place my hand on his hip, and lean into him, so that he can feel my weight, my heat, at his back.

"If you're only here because of a lie, you might as well go now."

Clive's body hums with indecision.

"If you're going to stay, you should probably introduce that freak show standing behind you, I know we taught you better manners than that."

Clive grabs hold of my wrist, squeezing so hard he dislocates some of the bones.

"I'm –"

"Mom, Dad," he says, again so quietly it is almost impossible to hear. He clears his throat and gains a little more volume. "This is my boyfriend –"

"Moron, we figured that out! Who else would put up with your ignorant shit? And push that ridiculous hair back out of your face so you can look me in the eye when you speak to me."

I nudge Clive out of the way, and step in front of him, "Look, old man, you say another vile word to Clive, and I don't care if you're in a hospital bed, I'll shove my cane so far up your ass, it'll come out your mouth."

He laughs, at first it's just a soft chuckle, then it gains momentum and turns into something that takes over his whole body. "What's your name, Freak Show? I like you. _You_ have spunk."

"Uta," I say, confused.

"You take good care of my boy?"

"Better than you've ever done, and he sure as hell isn't a boy anymore."

"I'm sure that's true. What is that? Twelve piercings I count?" It's such a non sequitur that I'm left speechless. He's right, but I'm standing across the room from him, in dim light. "Pink is kinda cliché for gays, isn't it?" He points at my tank top, half hidden under the crop top and sweater.

"I have twelve visible piercings, you are correct. Want to guess how many others I have?" I find my concentration again; ignoring the pink comment.

"I bet you set off the metal detector on the way through the airport!"

"You should have…" I almost say: 'see the expression,' but change it before the words can out me, "…heard the disgust in the voice of the poor security guard when the wand went off at my crotch." The sparring of words would have gone on and on, escalating a little further each time, if Clive hadn't put a hand on my upper arm to stop me.

"Well, if you're going to stay a few days, you might as well go to the house with your mother. You know she's beside herself when she doesn't have anyone to take care of, but get out for now and let me rest. I'm having surgery in the morning."

* * *

"What just happened?" Clive asks as we follow his mother into the elevator. She has zero personality, and in the few seconds it takes to pick a button, I forget she's there, until she moves.

"I'm more confused than you are. Did he say I have spunk?"

"I think he likes you." Clive's face is a jumble of emotions.

"Your father has changed," she says. "Yes, it is skin cancer, but they aren't sure how far, or deep, it goes. He's scared and thinking about his mortality. He's talked about you more in the last few weeks than he has in years. I thought it was now or never. Thank you for coming."

"I…" Clive says.

"I'm sorry I lied to you, but if it helps heal the rift between you two, I'll live with knowing you all think I'm a liar."

"Ok, I guess," Clive mumbles.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Uta-sama, I wish it were under better circumstances, but I've heard so much about you. I pictured you as taller, but otherwise the photos Clive sent did you justice." This is the first I've heard of him sending pictures of me to her, in fact I didn't know they were in contact at all.

"There's no need for such formality, Alice-chan. It's nice to meet you as well, but we can stay at a hotel so as not to inconvenience you during this time."

The elevator opens and we exit into the parking garage. She heads to the left. "If you don't come home with me, your father will be insulted."

* * *

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

The family dog, Pochi-kun, looks sideways at me as we sit in the living room. It's young, but I've no experience with dogs, so I can't guess its age. Its paws are much too large at the end of its stubby legs, like it's walking on snowshoes. It trips more than it walks, but its black and tan coloring is pretty, like a cut out mask.

Clive has never met him either, so he doesn't get much better a reception, but it will at least sniff him. When Clive directs me to sit quietly and hold out my hand just so, it goes out of its way to avoid coming close to me. I'd be insulted, if I wasn't so tired. I stand suddenly and the puppy gallops away, its tail between its legs.

"Uta-kun," Alice-chan says, taking out her date book. "When is your birthday?"

Every few minutes Pochi-kun works up the courage to stand up and move a few centimeters closer to the bag at Clive's feet. My dinner is in that bag, and if Pochi-kun thinks he's going to share with me, he's surely mistaken. I catch myself growling and turn it into a yawn.

"Uta?" Clive says.

"Hm, what?" Pochi-kun is almost in front of Clive's foot. In another few minutes the beast and I will have words over the contents of my bag.

"Mom asked you when your birthday is."

"Oh, sorry, I zoned out there for a minute. I'm sorry, Alice-chan, I didn't sleep last night, or the night before, now that I think of it. I've been trying to finish a –" I stop mid-thought because she's sitting there with a pencil poised to write the information down on her calendar and I'm just rambling. "The second of December."

"Very good, a Sagittarius, that would explain the sunburst tattoo on your chest. Did you do that, Clive?"

"Yes, Mother, it was the first tattoo I put on Uta." I pick up the satchel just as Pochi-kun's nose disappears under the flap. I snicker as the puppy watches the bag, ignoring me completely. I reach out and scratch behind his ear, and when it looks up at me with those big brown eyes, I almost relent.

"You'll have to show me more of your work."

I put the bag up on the table and then lay back on the couch, my head resting on the soft padded arm and my right leg over Clive's lap.

"Uta, do you mind?"

"Hmm?" I ask, lazily.

"Can you show her your tattoos?"

I pull up the hem of my shirt and push down the waistband of my pants so she can see the work there first.

* * *

My head snaps up as Clive takes my arm. I'm not sure how long I've been asleep, but my stomach is covered and he's narrating a tour of the ink on my right hand. I yawn and see the puppy is sitting on the floor in front of me, his black and tan face looking up at me in a silent plea.

"What do you boys want for dinner?" Alice-chan asks, as they reach the end of my tattoos that can be seen without disrobing.

"Whatever you want to fix is fine with me," Clive says, "Or I can go get takeaway."

"No, your father was right, I'll need to keep busy," she says, fake smile back in place.

"I'm way too tired to eat tonight. I'm just going to go lie down," I beg off, stumbling to my feet. I shoulder the satchel, and Clive moves to help me.

"I'll be right back, Mom, let me just show Uta the way." Oh, yeah, that's right, I'm supposed to be blind. I let him take my arm and lead me back to the guest room.

"I've got it. Go spend time with your mom. You haven't seen her in ages."

"Thank you." He kisses me, and darts back to the other room.

I throw off the sunglasses and scarf down half of the first package of meat we received earlier. I don't care that it is slightly older than I normally enjoy, or that it isn't my favorite cuts, I'm just so famished.

* * *

I'm lying in bed, with my eyes closed, when the door opens and light from the hallway falls into the darkened room. Clive undresses and climbs beneath the covers, shivering.

"If you're cold, you should have kept your clothes on," I say, pulling the covers over him and rubbing my arms up and down his back.

"Will you… bite me tonight?" He asks, sucking one of my nipple rings into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl it about. He knows my weaknesses like no other on earth, but I hardly ever bite him, and only when he requests it.

"No," I say, and kiss his hair as gently as I can. "No, because you want it for the wrong reason. Love doesn't have to hurt."

He cries for a few minutes before I carefully unwind from his arms. "But, that doesn't mean I won't sooth away your pain."

* * *

"Gah," he exhales quietly. He's relaxed and boneless.

"I always think it is incredibly brave that you let me give you blowjobs," I whisper in his ear. He laughs, coughing. "Those are my favorite parts to eat – after eyeballs, of course – and one indelicate chomp…" I click my teeth together, "… and you could end up a eunuch."

"How is it that you can make me laugh like this? At a time like this? In a place like this?"

I reset my ponytail. I love the feeling of his fingers tangled deep inside my hair, pulling it from the very roots while I blow him, but afterward it is annoying and uncomfortable to feel the individual hairs caught loose from the rest.

"Because we are Clowns, and that's our motto."

"You're a Clown, Uta, I'm just the balloon animal everyone tolerates."

"No –"

"Will you tell me about your parents? I'm not the only one with a messed up family, right?"

"My parents?" The question catches me off guard, and I take a second settling in so that my head rests on his belly. He doesn't have the body type I would have claimed as my preference when I was younger, but the soft, flat stomach has perks I wouldn't have considered as a teenager. I sigh. "My mother is too busy with her hobbies to be around much; my father has been in Cochlea since I was very young, five or so."

"When was the last time you saw your mother?" With every breath he takes my head rises and falls gently.

"At the last Clown meeting, so… six months ago, I guess. Oh, wait, no, I saw her yesterday. She wanted a favor from me."

"She's a Clown? Does she know about me?" His fingertips trace a tattoo on my back.

"She is in the highest circle of the group, and of course she does, they all do; I made sure of that."

"Have I met her?"

"No, but she wants to met you. Did you notice the new appointment on your calendar for the twenty-fourth? That's her. She wants a 'thorned rose' for her ankle. She has very particular proclivities that take up her time, so it is unusual for me to see her; before that meeting I hadn't even seen her in almost three years."

"Proclivities? Like what?"

"Are you familiar with the Marque de Sade?"

"The famous eighteen century French sadist?"

"Yes, she's very much like him. She told me it was alright to love pain." I giggle, "She's a dominatrix in Kabukichō, she mostly works with humans."

"She sounds so different from my mother," he chuckles.

"I couldn't imagine your mother in a black leather corset. She's too…"

"Soulless," he furnishes.

"I was going to say stoic."

"What does your mother think about you having a human lover?"

"She thinks it's foolish and that it'll end in tears for me, but otherwise she's fine with anything that makes me happy."

"Can you get her to take a picture of her ankle for me? I'll try to work up a few designs before the appointment."

* * *

When I'm sure that Clive is asleep, I slip out of bed and take my sketch pad to the window seat. The light from the moon and the reflection off the water makes it almost as bright as day, so I don't need to turn on any artificial light to draw the ideas that have been swirling in my head for the last few hours.

I don't normally make masks for humans - Clive has never worn his - but I feel compelled to make one for his mother, though I know she'll never even see it. The word soulless, as Clive used it to describe his mother, feels important and spot on, but also overused. I want somehow to understand her better by making this mask. Lines appear on the paper, building up the outline. She's not robotic, like I first thought, but more utilitarian like furniture in a room you've become overly familiar with. No, I rip the paper out of the book, and watch it flutter to the floor as I consider a better metaphor. She's like brick-a-brack on a shelf of a room that is only used to entertain strangers: a pretty, but purposeless ornament collected from a far-off country that smiles from a distance without any feeling. As the words form in my brain, the image comes off the edge of my pencil on to the paper.

It will be, by far, the heaviest mask I've ever made. It's a good thing I don't intend for anyone to ever don it. It starts with two clear outer layers, with a third secret layer in between them that will somehow hold liquid… I'm unsure of the color, so I leave the colored pencils aside for now… perhaps Alice-chan will inspire me before we leave her presence. The liquid, whatever it ends up being, will have to move on its own, like a lava lamp! Yes, I love that idea. A small heating element aimed properly on the stand… it could work. And suspended inside the liquid –

"You can turn on a light," Clive mutters. "It won't bother me." My eyes flicker to the clock, noting that hours have ticked silently by without my notice.

"The natural light is better."

"What'cha drawing?"

"A mask for your mother."

"Don't waste your time; she won't wear it."

"It's not for her to…" I look away from the paper to show it to him, but then I smile and relax back into the cold window frame. He's stretched out invitingly on the bed, hair tussled, and eyes open, but he's sound asleep. His chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm, and he snores softly.

We've had hundreds of conversations in his sleep, and he never remembers a single one, despite being my best sounding board for ideas during those discussions. If I continue to talk back, eventually his answers will become less and less articulate, until I either wake him up or he goes to a place in his sleep that even my words can't reach him. He has to be awake in two hours, so I save my breath, and my energy, for the drawing.


	5. Chapter 5

The surgery is scheduled for ten, Alice wants to be there by nine. Clive is asleep when my phone alarm goes off at seven am, so I put on my glasses and stumble into the living room. The house is quiet, and I find the remote and turn on the television. The coffee machine is on the counter, ready to go. I push start and listen to the news as the pot fills, one fragrant slow drop after another.

"… Prefectural authorities dedicate the new war memorial…"

Pochi-kun follows me around the kitchen, bumping into the back of my legs as I search for a mug. He lets me pet him, and for that I fill his bowl with kibbled, which I find during my search. The entire contents are scarfed up before I find a single mug.

"… the mystery of the missing cats is ongoing, anyone with knowledge about the situation…"

"… we are in for another frigid day today with highs in the lower…"

The machine clicks and I lift the pot away to fill my cup. The last drops of brew sizzle against the hot plate below, sending up additional waves of glorious scent. I toss one of my remaining special formula sugar cubes into the cup and give it a few seconds to melt.

"… after the break we'll come back with all the sports scores from last night…"

"Oh, Uta-kun," Alice-chan says, standing in the kitchen doorway, looking troubled. "I didn't realize you were an early riser, I would have gotten up earlier and made you coffee." I'm not sure why, but she keeps her distance from me, almost double that of my reach.

"I'm perfectly capable, Alice-chan," I say, waving away her protest. "I'm fine, really." I take a long sip of the dark roast and feel a little less decrepit. She changes out Pochi-kun's water and then fills the bowl. He attacks it as if I didn't just feed him. It'll be our little secret.

"But, you're…"

"Blind?" I slip down my glasses, allowing her to see the cataracts on my eyes. "Not a hundred percent. If I squint just right…" I laugh, and push the glasses back up. "I can see colors and light and shadows, but depth messes me up some times. I've learned to cope, and without my first cup of coffee each day…"

"Clive doesn't do those things for you?" She asks, her brow crinkling. She edges closer.

"He's my love, not my servant. By the way, what brand is this coffee? It's amazing."

"Adachi's. It's a local shop. They don't have it anywhere but here, so if you want to take some back home, I'll pick some up for you."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that."

"Well, I can't let you make your own breakfast, too; this is my kitchen after all, and my house," she says, looking more comfortable with me. "So, what would you like? Clive was always partial to pancakes as a child. Has he ever made those for you?" She asks, pulling on an apron and tying the strings.

"I'm allergic to just about everything normal people eat," I say. It's not a lie, but perhaps a slight embellishment of the truth.

"Ok, tell me what you can't have."

"Gluten, dairy, peanuts, shellfish, soy, eggs –"

"What can you eat?" she blurts out.

"Not much. Don't worry about feeding me. Clive packed snacks for me, so I've already eaten this morning."

As if summoned by his name, Clive stumbles into the kitchen bare-chested. For such an amazing tattoo artist, he's strangely free of ink embellishment on all the flesh that can be seen right now. He rubs his face and mutters in English.

"Hey, don't be talking in English around me," I snap.

"Oh, sorry, habit I guess, I was just asking for headache medicine."

"Another morning migraine?" I ask, my annoyance gone. Pochi-kun dances around Clive's feet, but he ignores him.

"No, just a little headache," he lies.

"It's in the hall bath," his mother finally gets a chance to answer. "You don't understand English, Uta-kun? Didn't you take it in school?" Clive heads for the pain relief, Pochi-kun trailing after him.

"It was my worst subject, and I don't use it often enough to get good at it." I can't tell her I never went to school and that the only learning I had as a child came from the naughty magazines my mother collected, stray newspapers, and posters. It wasn't until much later in life that Renji and Itori took the time to teach me to read basic Katakana and Hiragana.

"You should speak English at home, Clive, and help Uta learn," she admonishes as he comes back in.

"That's what I tell him, but he likes to curse at me in English, so he won't."

"I bet," she mutters. Clive comes back with a handful of small white pills. She takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water for him. "And for Christ's sake put on a shirt before your father – put on a shirt before I put breakfast in front of you. What if you dropped a hot sausage on your chest? You could get a bad burn."

"Sorry," he mumbles. At least now I know where he gets that particularly bad trait from. He comes back a few seconds later, pulling on the bright pink tank top I was wearing yesterday, and sits down beside me at the table.

* * *

"I'm going to stay behind with dad," I tell them, settling into the chair. Clive whimpers a little, but his mother forces him out.

"Alright, say your peace, since that's why you stayed behind, right?"

"Yes, but let us wait until they've gotten clear. I don't want Clive coming back while I tell you what a shit you are."

"They're gone –"

"Almost, be patient, they're at the elevator."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I have excellent hearing." I wait while he glares at me from the bed.

"If you don't get started they'll be back before you get to tell me how awful I am for kicking my son out of the house."

"Shut the fuck up," I bark. "I've spent twelve years building Clive up from the abuse you mete out to him."

"He came out of the womb like that, I never laid a hand on him. All I did was try to teach him how to be a man."

"Oh, what bullshit, get over yourself. I may not know what it feels like to be a man, but I know you aren't it. A man doesn't have a goal of making people cry."

"I didn't –" But I'm not interested in his words and I silence him with a look.

"You didn't have to because you taught him that he was worthless," I hiss at him, desperately trying to get my words across without activating my Kagune. "He thought he deserved to be treated like shit, so every man who came after you and put their hands on him, was your fault." As I lean in close, he jerks as if I've hit him. I fold my wrists over the bedrails.

"That's not –"

"When I met Clive, he'd been living with a guy for over a year who beat the shit out of him almost daily. You know that fall of hair you made fun of him for having? It hides the scars that asshole carved into his face with a straight razor."

"I hope that son of a bitch went to jail." For the first time I see shock mixed into the general contempt of his face. Maybe now I'm seeing past the asshole's mask.

"Why would he go to jail?" I shake my head. "Clive thought it was Goro's right," I have to stop and spit to clear my mouth of that foul name. "And it was all because you trained him to think he deserved hatred. I had to take care of that guy."

"I feel like 'and no one will ever find the pieces of him' should come after that sentence."

I don't reply for a beat. "I don't know if you care, but Clive isn't like this at home. He's strong and caring, he's got friends and a successful career, but he fell apart the moment he got that letter from your wife. That makes me very unhappy."

"And are you going to 'take care' of me as well?"

"Don't try me. You have a lot to be sorry for, old man. Beginning with kicking your son out of the house for being gay –"

"Is that what he told you?"

"Yes, that's what I told him, because it was true," Clive growls from the doorway. His return is so quiet, even I didn't hear it in my growing anger. "I'll never forget what you said to me: 'No co-dependent pansy-ass faggot is going to live under this roof.'"

"And you choose – as always – to only listen to, and stress, the words that you wanted to hear. Dammit, I lead with co-dependent because it was the most important part. You couldn't live your whole life as your mother's shadow, clutching at her apron strings, or you'd never leave the house and have an actual life. What I did was to force you out of your complacency. It seems like it worked, since you've actually found a spine, son, so shall we continue to break that sentence down –"

Clive looks like he's going to be sick, he pivots and leaves the room. I'm up and after him, only remembering when I'm already at the door that I'm supposed to be blind; I don't give a shit. The stairway door to the roof swings closed and I take off in that direction.

Clive sits on the edge of the building, looking down three stories onto the triangle of grass and gardens below. I'm relieved he picked that side, and not the seven story drop on the other.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault, I shouldn't have…" I say, but can't finish. I'm not sure what I shouldn't have done, and I'm not actually sorry I yelled at the old man. I can hear all that in my crappy apology, meaning Clive can as well.

"Its fine," Clive replies and I know he's lying, too.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really." His phone beeps. He reads the text quickly and slips it back into his pocket. "Mom says they are taking him to surgery now."

"Do you want to go?"

"Can we go home?" he asks, his wet eyes shining as he looks at me hopefully.

"If that's what you want, but I meant do you want to go and wait with your mother."

He nods. "I guess we should." He puts his feet back on solid ground, stands, and walks three steps past me on the way to the door before he stops. "Uta, am I your shadow? Did I trade my mother's apron strings for yours?"

"I don't think it is wrong for us to be dependent; it is only bad when we don't rely on each other equally," I answer, gaining more confidence. "Yeah. If you relied on me, but I didn't rely on you… But I do, more than you'll ever know."

"I'm not that person anymore?"

"No, you're not."

"Good, let's go wait with my mother. She needs _me_ this time."


	6. Chapter 6

I thank the fates that Alice-chan heads to the store, but sends Clive and I home, because the first thing I see when we open the door is Pochi-kun, gnawing on something. I stop, and Clive has to push passed me to get into the house. He halts as well when he sees that Pochi-kun isn't eating anything he should be.

"Is that a…?"

"Yes, that was going to be my dinner tonight," I respond, confused by how calm I sound. My stomach makes a stupid growling sound, despite the fact that dinner is obviously off.

"It won't harm him? Will it?"

"It shouldn't. It was a little old, but it hadn't gone off yet. Your family dog is a Ghoul, you know?"

"Uta, it's not funny."

"It kinda is."

"Drop it, Pochi-kun!" His attempt at a commanding voice is so unbelievable that the dog continues worrying at the bone without even looking at him. Pochi-kun picks up his tasty morsel and trots over to my feet. He looks up at me, wagging its tail. Sighing, I kneel and put out my hand under his mouth.

"Drop it," I say, and he does, immediately, backing away from it, whining.

"No one listens to me," Clive groans, as he picks up the stray scraps of flesh and bone around the entry way. I pick up the puppy and head for the bedroom.

"It's worse in here," I call to Clive. I put Pochi-kun on the bed as I begin collecting bits of brown paper wrapper and twine. Clive brings me a garbage bag, and together we clean the room of all traces of my dinner.

"The rest of the house looks fine," he says. "Was there anything left?"

"No." I sit on the edge of the bed, Pochi-kun curls up behind me.

"Well, you still have that card, right? You can hunt with –"

"I'm back!" Alice-chan calls out. "Clive, come help me put away the groceries."

I follow him out; I'm just too stunned to do anything else. I have the card, I won't starve, but…

Pochi-kun begins coughing, heaving like he's going to puke. Clive looks at me, his eyes bugged. The puppy gags and pukes an almost whole finger into a pool of yellowish bile. Clive holds out his hands as if he's begging and trying to ward off evil all at the same time.

"Pochi, what did you get a hold of this time?" Alice-chan asks, continuing to tidy away the food. I shove a towel into Clive's hand and he scoops up the remains, blotting the liquid from the floor. He peers into the folds of the towel, hiding it from her.

"It looks like a dead critter," he lies poorly, stuttering.

"Will it go in the disposal, you think?"

"Um," he stalls. I shake my head just enough that he sees.

"To be safe, I'm going to take it out to the trash."

"Ok, just throw the towel in the wash pile," she says, heading out of the kitchen. We stare at each other for a few seconds.

"We are never getting a dog," he declares as he walks out the back door.

* * *

The next twelve hours are a blur. Imahara comes through the surgery just fine and his prognosis is very good. We spend our time alternatively between the hospital and the family house. Pochi-kun doesn't leave us anymore presents. Alice-chan makes attempt after attempt to feed me, and while I enjoy the colorful presentation of food for pure aesthetics – she's actual clever about the arrangement of the food on the plate and the plate on the table – the smell turns my stomach every time. Every hour I go without food makes it worse.

She always makes sure I have a topped off cup of coffee, and again I see a striking parallel between her and Clive, and an equally stark contrast between her and my mother.

"Was she always like this?" I ask Clive, when we are alone that night in the bedroom he grew up in. It's odd… thinking of a smaller version of him living in the space between these four walls, trying to live up to his father's crazy ideals, but if his mother was –

"You mean over-solicitous? According to dad, she was. Any time anyone needs something, it's like she's programmed to comply. In grade one, the kids at school use to call her the RoboMother, and it stuck." We sit on the bed, facing each other, my legs are under me, his are crossed out in front of him, his tattoos showing in the rips of his jeans.

"RoboMother?" I put my hand over my mouth, trying to hide the laughter, but I know it still shows in my eyes. He forces his mouth into a frown, but can't maintain it for more than a few seconds before he's laughing with me.

"Did your mom do all that mothering stuff?"

"What's the first year kids have to go to school for humans? Like six or seven, right?"

He nods, gets up, and goes to the book shelf. He pulls down a framed photograph and hands it to me. "This was my first grade class. I'm –"

"Don't tell me," I say, grabbing the photo before his finger can spoil the surprise. My eyes are drawn to the short boy in the second row. He's neat and clean for picture day, but he has that same sullen, stubborn way of holding his face. I point, he confirms with a nod. He takes the frame back and replaces it on the shelf. He sits closer to me.

"Schooling for Ghouls is a little different. It starts the moment you understand your name. You learn to hide in plain sight, how to fit in, how to pretend to eat... I was an early bloomer – it was that or die – my mother 'taught' me to hunt when I turned seven years old. She lamed a vagrant, showed me how to use our Kagune, and then left me in the alley alone with him. He had a knife and wasn't keen on dying, but neither was I."

"She left you there? Alone? Did you have your Kagune yet?" He takes my hands and holds them loosely in his lap. I have to shift closer, and perhaps that was his intention all along.

"Not when I entered the alley, but he stabbed me in the chest, just relentlessly like a metronome." I take back my left hand, make a fist, and pound out the staccato rhythm on my sternum. "And after a while, he thought I was dead – hell, I thought I was dead – and he dragged his body away from me. That was the first time I felt the all-consuming hunger. Healing takes sustenance; he was the closest source. I manifested my Kagune and I did to him what he did to me. Only… I made it permanent. Mother came back once he was dead; she pushed me aside while she ate her fill on my kill."

"That's…" Clive can't think of any words, but anger swirls across his face, tinged with sadness.

"I was angry, and strong for a seven year old, and I snarled at her," I tell him, smirking. "I was even a giant asshole when I should have been in grade school. She was so much faster than I was at that point, so her arm came out of nowhere, and I found myself an inch deep into the wall, marveling at the pain, and then she did the strangest thing: she threw his eyeballs at me. Maybe it was the thrill of the first kill, or some shit, but I ate them, gobbled them up like… what's that sweet dessert thing you eat all the time called?"

"Mochi?"

"Yes! I gobbled them up like mochi and they've been my favorite ever since," I turn and lay back so that my head is in his lap; I look up at him. "Do you still love me, after hearing all the gory details?

He leans over, putting his lips on mine, his tongue seeking entrance into my mouth. He's a brave man to put anything in there knowing I'm half-starved, but his actions speak louder than words. "Of course I do," he says when he comes up for air. "And I love how after all these years together, I can still learn new stuff about you."


	7. Chapter 7

That evening, Clive and I bring Imahara home in a taxi, while Alice-chan does the shopping. She brings in four bursting bags of groceries. "Clive, put Pochi-kun outside please, I need a little peace." She holds the puppy off with her foot until Clive picks him up and deposits him in the back yard. "Uta-kun, I did my research and I think this time, I found the best thing for you to eat for dinner with us."

"Oh?" I ask, trying not to look at Clive as he returns to my side.

"Yes, fish and fresh vegetables. I double-checked, nothing with allergy contradictions and the rest of us can have a nice sauce I'll make separately so that there will be no cross-contamination."

"Mom," Clive says lowering his voice, "that's awesome, but I wish you'd talked to me first. We only eat fish from certain farms where we know that the fish were fed a diet completely free of allergens. I hope you didn't spend too much money."

"It's ok, Clive; this was fresh-caught in the ocean this morning."

"That's wonderful, Alice-chan. Thank you. Just because I'm paranoid, I'll take my antihistamine pills now and I'm sure I'll be fine," I say, seeing the frown on Imhara's face.

I head into the guest room, Clive close on my heels. "You're not going to eat that, are you?"

"Of course I am, Clive, it is another mask I wear in order to be with you."

"Don't add more guilt on top of what I already feel."

"You're worth it," I say, pulling him in for a deep kiss that last far too long. I sigh, pulling away and hand him a syringe filled with clear liquid.

"What's this?"

"It's an anti-RC serum, just in case. Oh, by the way, is there anything special I should know about eating fish? I haven't had to do that before."

"Eat the body, avoid the bones. Mom always serves it without the head or fins, so no worries there. If you need it..."

"What?"

"You can, you know, snack on me a little."

I put my hand on his side, right below the ribs where there is a large scar about the width and breath of his hand. It was the first gift he ever gave me, and I loved and hated it at the same time.

"I'll be fine, but we need to go home, soon."

* * *

I pretend to chew each bite of fish ten times, and each smaller bite of vegetables five times, before I swallow the chunk whole. I drink a lot of coffee, force the food down my throat, and I smile the entire time. I'm so focused on this repetition that I miss Imahara's question. Clive pinches me below the table.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I yawn, feigning tiredness. Maybe I can be excused early if I need to sleep.

"What does your father do?" he repeats.

"Oh," I say, and use the pause as an excuse to put down my fork. "Nothing, he's in prison."

"For what?"

"Dad…" Clive warns.

"It's ok, I'm not responsible, nor accountable, for him. He's doing time for murder."

"That's unfortunate. What about your mother?"

"She's a hostess in Ikebukaru."

"At her age?" His head tilts just like Clive's does when he's confused, or disbelieving.

"She has a very particular set of clients," I chuckle.

"Ah, I see.. well, I don't, but perhaps that's for the better. And you do what, exactly?"

"I'm an artist. I sculpt."

"But you're blind?" His head tilts the other way. Alice is silent beside him, and next to me, Clive simmers angrily.

"Mostly, but I wasn't always."

"That must be a good hook: sculpture from a blind man."

"It is lucrative enough to provide for both our needs." I motion to include Clive. "If he wanted, Clive could stop working today and we'd be fine."

"But I like working," Clive speaks up. "In fact, we're going to have to head home soon. Now that we know you're not dying, I think we'd better get back to our clients."

A knife clatters against the plate. "Dammit, I guess the anesthetic is still affecting me," Imahara swears.

"Oh, dear, you're bleeding," Alice says in a monotone, getting up from the table.

"Look at that," he says, holding up his finger as a thick drop of blood plops onto the table top.

My gut clenches, trying to repel the human food to make room for the tasty meal in front of me. The smell of iron and life in the air swirls in my brain. My stomach makes a loud querulous noise.

My Kakagun flares and my eyesight returns sharply, showing each individual fragment of the blood falling from his hand; it is the only thing I can see. The room spins in a kaleidoscope of colors and scents. I close my eyes, fighting off the vertigo, and try to tell my starving body that I'm not really hungry.

"Something is disagreeing with you?" Clive asks, seeing my distress. "Maybe you should go to the bathroom." He pulls at my arm, trying to shake me out of the stupor.

"Yes," I pant. "I think that's wise." I force my legs to unlock below the table and stumble to my feet and toward the bathroom. Alice passes me on the way, returning with a plastic bandage that might stop the bleeding, but won't stop the scent of blood in the air.

Getting the poison out of my system is harder than it used to before I met Clive and lost my gag reflex. I can't just stick my fingers down my throat anymore, and it takes much longer than it should to visualize something vile enough to make me vomit up the dinner. I spend too much time in the bathroom, so when I come back every eye is on me.

"You don't look too good," Imahara says. "In fact, you're looking a little gray."

"I'll be fine."

"Do you need…?" Clive asks, placing the syringe on the table. I wave off the offer.

"What's that?" Alice asks.

"Epinephrine: it's an injection in case he has a severe reaction."

"I'm fine, really," I say, but Clive doesn't look convinced.

"Well, that's what you get when you're in love with a Ghoul," Imahara says.

I'm back on my feet without conscious thought, the dining room chair clatters over behind me. Clive rushes in between us, providing a much too small shield.

"What are you talking about, dad? Do you know how insulting –"

"And you've got to get better at covering for Freak Show's ass. The lies you've been telling are really weak, son. If you're going to protect him with only half the effort he protects you with, then you're not an equal partner in this relationship."

"What… You can't just say…"

"Stop, Clive, it is over," I tell him, maneuvering him so I turn sideways. From this position I can spin Clive a hundred and eighty degrees and out the front door with little effort, but for now he can still see his father if he wishes to look. "How did you know?"

"I suspected, so I had Alice lower the lights, those sunglasses might be good in bright conditions, but the red really stands out the darker it gets. So, Freak Show, let's get a gander at those eyes."

I slide the glasses down my nose, and he nods.

"Huh, I've never seen a Ghoul up close before. That's interesting."

"You're a fool," I accuse. "Even if it was only a suspicion, why would you purposefully cut yourself in front of someone you thought was a Ghoul – especially one who hasn't had a fresh meal in almost a week?"

"Just playing a hunch, Freak Show. It wasn't like you were just going to come out and admit you were a Ghoul. And, thank you for not eating anyone while staying with us. I'm not sure if that's just considered polite among Ghouls, but we appreciate the sacrifice."

"Are the CCG on their way? Or are you intending on calling them now?" I ask.

"Neither."

"Dad, don't you dare! Oh, wait, what?"

"What?" He echoes with a shrug. "You two have been together for twelve years. If he was going to eat you, he would have fattened you up and done so by now. You're too damn skinny to make a good meal, and besides, no one would put up with your crap for that long, if he was just planning on eating you."

I chuckle; Clive turns into me, hiding the left side of his face in my shoulder. He's not as amused. I tilt my head down and kiss his hair.

"See, Clive, I've been watching that body language between the two of you, and he has clear affection for you. He gives off a vibe that shouts he'll protect you with his life, and kill anyone who tries to hurt you. That's good enough for me. I'd rather he was a she, and there were spoiled grandchildren in the future, but…" he shrugs again.

"I'm so confused," Clive mumbles into my shoulder. I slip the glasses back up my nose.

"I think he's trying to apologize," I say, stroking his hair. "What makes you such an expert on body language?"

"I'm not surprised Clive didn't tell you. He always hated it, but I'm a criminal profiler. I was a consultant for the police."

"He'd analyze me all the time," Clive whines. "I couldn't handle it… the fact that he's doing it now… to you… to us…"

"I don't know how else to understand people, son. It's a gift and a curse."

My eyebrow raises, "You're not going to turn us in? Turn me in?"

"Eh, I'm retired. As long as you don't eat me, Alice, or Pochi-kun, or really anyone while you're staying in our home, I won't complain."

"I think that's the best you're gonna get, darling," I say, running my hands along Clive's arms. He snuggles into me a little closer, his hands clutching at the back of my shirt.

"Clive, come here," Imahara says, "please." Alice-chan gets up and helps me clean up the mess I made when the chair flew backward, and Imahara pats the empty chair, inviting him to sit. Clive perches nervously at the edge of the chair, his hands gripping each other.

Imahara lifts his hand toward Clive's face and he flinches. He stops, then tries again, brushing the fall of dark hair back from his son's face. He studies the scars there for a moment, then locks his eyes on Clive.

"Freak Show, you said you took care of the guy that did this, right?" He says without looking away from his son.

"That's right."

"I'm asking this as a father, not a cop… did you eat him?"

"Part of him," I admit, something I haven't done even with Clive. "An asshole that large could feed a family of Ghouls for a week; I'm more of a nibbler than a gorger."

"I'm sorry that my behavior taught you to think you deserved such scars, son. I know it drives you crazy, but honestly, I just don't know how else to relate to you. You're nothing like me, or your mother; not that that is a bad thing, but it is scary and confusing to an old man like me. I don't know if that'll ever change, but maybe we should try again, now that we are both a little older, if not wiser. And I like your boyfriend, you two should visit more often."

"His name is Uta, dad. I want you to use his name from now on, and mine too, while you're at it. I'm not a boy anymore, and right now I'm not sure I want you to call me son, either. Prove to me that you're repentant, even if you are an asshole, and I might come back and visit you again – without thinking you're going to die."

"I actually don't mind him calling me 'Freak Show,' I think it's kinda funny." I shrug, but neither of them are listening to me.

"Uta-kun," Alice-chan says, "Is there anything I can serve you that won't make you sick?"

"Plain water and black coffee," I tell her, gratefully.

"I'll put on another pot of coffee," she smiles, and for a split second I can see past her mask and see that there is a woman behind her eyes, one who feels, and loves both the men in her family. The image of her mask becomes strong, and suddenly I know the colors. The liquid will be clear, with black and gray blobs floating in it, but the lining of the eyes in the three dimensional sculpt will be blue, and somehow I'll figure out how to make it cry yellow tears. Yes, those colors will work perfectly for this woman.

"My son… Clive, says I'm not allowed to call you 'Freak Show' anymore, so despite the fact that _we_ both think it's funny, I won't do it anymore," Imahara says, like we are old friends conspiring against Clive, when I sit down at the table again.

"I don't know, I might get him to call me that when we're in bed together tonight." I smirk; Clive is stunned, and Imahara is speechless for a few seconds, then laughs like he hasn't heard anything funnier in his entire life.

Once he's back in control of his breath, he turns and looks at Clive, shaking his head. "Who would have thought that we would come together over a mutual affection for a Ghoul?"

* * *

Thanks so much for reading! I have more plans for Uta and Clive, so stay tuned for new stories. Your reviews, favorites, and follows are always appreciated.


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